Didn't Get It Right
by Aonani
Summary: This really wasn't how he was supposed to introduce himself. At least he didn't mention he was worse than everybody's aunt. Or maybe he should've. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

The Doctor planned this. (Well,_ tried_ to.)

He knew what to say. (At least, he _thought_ he did.)

He was going to say hello. (By dropping randomly into Sherlock's home.)

Most likely end up frustrating him. (It's not his fault. Not entirely)

Sherlock wouldn't be able to sleep because of him. ("_Sleeping? _Who needs sleep when you can travel to the stars?")

The Doctor planned this. (The plan failed before it even started.)

**...**

"Get out."

John looked around the room before blinking, "Pardon?"

"I don't like repeating myself." A grimace on the pale lips of the detective—_c__onsulting _detective—and his fingers were to his pale temples.

"Your mind castle again?" If Watson was trying to hide his disbelief, he wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"Mind _palace_. It's not hard to remember." Not once did he look at the Army doctor.

"You're not in the middle of a case." John pointed out.

"I'm not allowed to think unless on a case?" Sherlock turned his head to look at his flatmate.

"That's not what I—"

"I know what you mean, but would you rather prefer the violin?" He said dryly.

"—Good point," John got up and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be at a cafe then. Call me once you've returned to the land of reality."

Sherlock was already in deep thought, eyes closed with his palms pressed together and his middle fingers touching his chin; his signature pose.

After five minutes of silence, he didn't expect the loud car horns to honk in sync like a choir.

He lets out a strangled gasp and sits up quickly—far too quickly—and ends up on the floor. He lets out a frustrated growl and heads towards the window, pushing aside the curtains.

"What?" He sees a blue police box just standing there in the middle of the street. The horns won't stop and he moves away, covering his ears. He grits his teeth and leans against the wall.

"Make it stop." He grumbled and was in disbelief when the horns stopped. He quickly scrambles to the window and presses himself against it. His eyes dart left and right.

Not a sign of the police box. The cars continued on as if nothing had happened. But something _definitely_ happened.

He hurriedly grabbed his violin and began to play in a fast, scratchy tempo. He played too loud to hear the unfamiliar whirring and the fact that same blue police box appeared with it.

"Great! Fantastic! Best violin playing I've heard in years." A man in a suit wearing a bow tie walked in from the kitchen and grinned at the taller man.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he stopped playing but immediately went into a neutral expression, "You're lying."

"Yeah, I hate violins. Honestly, one could take so much Beethoven." He tapped his head and grinned.

"You've met him?" Sherlock's eyes gazed over parts of his face.

"You're deducing me aren't you? Have at it!" The shorter man grinned, not answering his question. Sherlock laid his violin on the couch, momentarily forgetting about it.

"Old. You are far older than you seem," Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. "You travel. By what? Something small, yet it's big on the inside."

The stranger's eyes lightened up, "Keep going."

"Others think you are strange; weird actually. You're rather lonely aren't you?" The consulting detective mumbled and flexed his fingers. "You have many companions yet you are left alone in the end. You consider yourself to ruin people's lives."

"That's not even half of it." He grumbled and poked at his bow tie.

"You believe you're at fault about something. A war?" Sherlock didn't even bat an eyelash. "Yet I see no scars." The British man grabbed the man's hand, and examined it.

"I don't need scars on my body to show the pain I've went through." His voice low, devoid of the happiness that was in him a couple seconds ago and pulled his hand back.

"Emotional scarring? Fascinating," The high functioning sociopath circled around the stranger. "What war?"

"Vietnam?" The stranger looked confused.

"Really?" Sherlock grimaced.

"It's the only human war I know, sorry." He shrugged.

"Human war?"

"As much as I enjoyed that deduction, you know absolutely nothing about me." He grinned.

"I wasn't—"

"Finished, yeah. We'll be here for years, trust me." He laughed and moved away from Sherlock, examining his home.

"Why's that?" Annoyance at the tip of his tongue. He didn't like unanswered questions nor being interrupted.

"Elementary, my dear Holmes," He quickly moved his hands to his mouth and looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Ignore that. Ignore that right now. I didn't say it. I swear."

"It seems you know a lot about me and yet I don't even know your name." Sherlock raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Eyelash." He blurted out.

"What?"

"You have an eyelash on your cheek. I'm afraid to touch you because your cheek bones look quite sharp."

Saying that Sherlock was bewildered didn't cut it.

"I ask for your name, yet you comment on my cheek bones." He frowned.

"Sorry," The stranger grinned sheepishly. "I'm the Doctor and I swear I'm not as bad as Mycroft and as insane as Moriarty."

It became so silent, the Doctor heard his two hearts pound in his ears.

"That was not how I wanted to introduce myself, I'm serious."

"The Doctor?" Sherlock spoke slowly. "Doctor who?"

"What does it matter?" The Doctor waved his arms. "I am the Doctor, and that's what I want people to call me."

"...I don't get you." The realization pissed off Sherlock.

"Deducing me won't help." The Doctor grinned, proud of himself.

"You're taking me somewhere?" Sherlock asked before the Doctor opened his mouth again.

"Okay point to you on that one, where's Watson?" The Doctor went on his knees and looked under the couch. "Watsooooon!"

"I told him to leave." Sherlock looked down at the man.

"What for?" The Time Lord looked at him in disbelief.

"I don't like to hear people while in my mind palace." Sherlock scowled.

"Mind palace, huh? You should see my mind _empire_," The Doctor grinned and jumped up. "Better than any army in space, let me tell you."

"You're from outer space?" Sherlock blinked.

"Aliens, yes. We exist. To me, you're the alien. Too lazy to explain," The Doctor spoke without once taking a breath.

Sherlock opened his mouth before closing it, thinking of what to say next.

"Oh right, you don't know the solar system do you? If I tell you what planet I'm from, you'd only be as confused as you were from the beginning." The Doctor grinned and his eyes brightened in mischief.

"Useless information." The signature scowl.

"I'll show you useless." He grabbed the consulting detective and ran into the kitchen just as John opened the door.

"Sherlock? Sherlock are you here?" He stepped into the kitchen once the blue box disappeared.

He blinked and shrugged.

"Probably bothering Molly again."


End file.
